


for what

by owbobmyhead



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: :), Actually...Highkey, Alcohol, Anger, But I didn't want to make that a major part of this, Choking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting and making up, Frank is going through it, Gerard has anger issues, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Dom/sub, Lowkey Sadism, M/M, Making Out, Mentioned Mikey and Ray, Mild Sexual Content, Physical hurt/comfort, Self-Doubt, Swearing, Very brief mention of Gerard drinking issue, a mess, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owbobmyhead/pseuds/owbobmyhead
Summary: they hated each other, for no reason at all.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Kudos: 43





	for what

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this with a different pair but wanted to change it to good ol' frerard

Gerard hated Frank. 

He hated the way he spoke to him, like he was inferior to him rather than his superior. He hated the way he spoke to him, hated the way words rolled sarcastically off his tongue. 

He hated the way the boy looked at him with his dopey smirk, his big, bright eyes that shone with false innocence. He could see straight through, straight through all of it. Every act the other put on, every front and lie. He could see past his innocent smiles and bats of long eyelashes, could hear it in his voice when he put on that sweet, velvety tone whenever he wanted something. _Gee_ , he'd sing-- Gerard came to hate that nickname. 

He hated the way the boy knew how to push his buttons. And Gerard hated the way the younger knew he had anger issues, that he let his anger boil up with each snarky comment, with each push and jab from him until he exploded. It's as if Frank did it blatantly on purpose every time, just to get a reaction. 

Gerard hated him, but hated himself more for falling for all of it. Every time he bit his tongue, waiting for the day to come where he'd snap and do more than just push him against the wall, hard, knocking the wind out of him. He swore he'd punch him soon, fist connecting square with his jaw, something he hadn't ever done. Something Frank had done to him. 

Yet again, he couldn't stay mad at him for it, even when it burned deep down at the memory-- coming home to find Frank standing with a bottle from his liquor stash to his lips, a stash that he tried to keep hidden away even from himself-- downing evey expensive drop like it meant nothing to him. He remembered how he got mad at the other and yelled, getting slurs of meaningless shouts back and hands punching at his chest. It was all for no reason, which is usually how it went. 

They fought, yelled, hit, made up. Then repeat. 

He enabled it, and anyone around could see. He let the boy in every time he knocked at his door, every time he showed up, no matter the time of day. Morning, afternoon, the middle of the night. He opened the door to that fake smile, that honey dripping from his tongue that Gerard just hated, and let him in. Let him get what he wanted. Maybe it was a soft spot he had, or maybe Gerard was just dumb and too proud to admit. 

It didn't matter, not when he was in this deep. Not when Frank considered Gerard's apartment a second home. Or more so, his only home. Frank was a freeloader, a parasite living off of everything Gerard had. He used him for his things, his food, his shelter, but he also used him because of this soft spot. Frank knew it was there in Gerard, past all the hard stares and serious tones, pushes to his chest when he got on his nerves. He saw it like a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel, running towards it and gripping it with greedy fingers even if it burned. It burned because he never meant for it to get out of hand-- to resorting to hurting each other. 

But that's exactly what it did. It made them hurt, not only deep inside themselves, but outwardly hurt each other. 

That's why Gerard stared at the door for a long time when he heard a knock that night. 

He knew what was waiting on the other side-- Frank, his smile, his eyes, his voice, his coaxing, sweet voice. He could be drunk considering it was nearing midnight, which would be a whole different situation on its own. If sober Frank was too much to handle, you can only imagine intoxicated Frank. 

He sighed, knowing damn well he wasn't going to leave him to freeze on the front step, and twisted the doorknob. He felt his stomach twist, too. 

"Gee," there was that voice, "I'm so glad you're awake."

"I wasn't, you woke me." His hand still gripped the doorknob, a barrier between letting the other inside. Frank gently pushed his way forward, making his way in regardless with the touch of a hand on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard stared at the empty doorway for too long as he listened to the others shoes tap across the wooden floors behind him. A cold wind swept across his face. He closed the door. 

"What do you want, Frank?" 

The boy was already in the kitchen, scrounging around like he owned it all, like he payed for the food that he was about to steal without a care. His fingers found a bottle of liquor and lifted it into the air, fingers twisting off the lid. Frank was twenty, and he often came over just to sneak sips of his alcohol. It wasn't sneaky anymore, not when Gerard knew and Frank knew he did. 

Gerard gritted his teeth, jaw tightening because no, this wasn't going to happen. He moved forward quickly and snatched the bottle successfully without dropping it to the floor, a bit of the liquid sloshing from the bottle across their hands as they both pulled. 

Gerard set it on the counter, "no, this isn't happening tonight. You're not coming here to steal my liquor and get drunk in my apartment."

Frank pouted his stupid, pink lips; it was clear he had already been drinking, "Gee, you're really no fun."

The nickname made him grit his teeth harder. He snatched the cap and twisted it back on, pushing past the younger to place it back into its spot. "What are you doing here, really? Did he kick you out again?"

_He_ stood in place of _your 'boyfriend'_. Frank's 'boyfriend' who he lived with on and off. He didn't say the words because they weren't really dating, he knew Frank and the other guy were barely close enough to be considered a couple. The guy always kicking Frank out, which Gerard could admit was unfair, but he could see why. Frank was demanding and stupid. 

"I'm hurt, I really am," Frank placed a hand over his own chest in an attempt to look so, "and you don't need to know the answer to that."

"So he didn't, then?" Gerard pressed on.

Frank shot him daggers, "shut the fuck up about it, I don't want to talk about him. If I wanted to, I would've stayed there with him."

"It seems like you never want to be there with him."

Frank shook his head again with a dramatic roll of his eyes, more anger seeping through the movements. He opened the cabinet and snatched the liquor again like a child unable to accept the fact, twisting off the lid quicker than Gerard could react. He lifted the glass to his lips and downed a mouthful before Gerard grabbed it, deja vu clouding through the air. "Fucking _stop it_."

Frank looked a mess, he finally realized. His hair was windblown and hanging over his eyes, eyes that were red and dark underneath, lips shining and breath coated in alcohol. 

Then, it was like someone hit replay. 

Frank's hands that were balled into tight fists opened, flat palms pushing at Gerard's chest hard enough to knock him backwards, yet not off of his feet. Thankfully he was able to set the bottle down, away from arms reach as Frank pressed forward again with another push. Gerard let his string break loose as well, he couldn't stop it as he took each blow. He was pissed, angry, fucking fuming and he pushed the other back. He was stronger than Frank, sending him back with a huff of air out of his lungs. With another push, the youngers back was hitting the fridge door, the sound of contents falling inside. 

Frank was a feisty fighter, always going too far too fast, always trying to get the upper hand. He gripped Gerard's shoulders and pushed, grunting when he didn't send him very far. He punched his chest, trying to push him away but Gerard kept getting closer, kept pushing him back. 

Frank yelled as he felt his back hit the hard fridge again, shoulders being forced to stay put, hair flying and settling as if he were free falling, down, down. He couldn't move, stuck in the others grip. He spat in Gerard's face, seeing red as Gerard wiped his cheek with his shoulder. 

" _Fuck you_ ," Frank seethed without knowing why, without knowing where the words came from, "get off of me."

"Fuck _me?_ " Gerard shook his head, voice too light for that look of hatred that burned in his eyes, "you're fucking crazy, coming into _my_ apartment, picking a fight with _me_ , then telling _me_ to fuck off? Where's your head, Frank?"

Frank replied by reaching a hand up to grip Gerard's hair and pulling hard, "sorry, just thought you might need to be reminded where _your_ big head was." 

Gerard smiled and Frank couldn't deny that it scared him, how he was able to smile with that much anger and hatred living within it. Frank knew Gerard hated him in that moment, that his anger was boiling over, and it only pushed him on. 

"You think you're so tough, Frankie, don't you?"

"I know I am, that's why I leave you black and blue whenever I leave."

Gerard's pulse kicked up and heart hurt all the same at the words. Frank had left his skin black and blue before, left him with lingering marks to remind him of how fucked up they were. But he couldn't stop his fingers from delicately tracing over the marks each time the younger left. 

"What do you leave me with, a scolding? Telling me to be good, to go back to him? You think that's helping me?"

If Gerard were thinking clearly, he'd hear the hurt in the youngers voice whenever his 'boyfriend' was brought up. He'd pick up the fact that Frank didn't want to go home, that he had a scared look in his eye every time Gerard told him to leave and go back to him. 

Gerard's hand found purchase at the base of Frank's neck, pressing into the skin just below his adams apple, feeling it bob and stop at the space in between his thumb. 

"Maybe I need to show you then, huh? Show you that you can't keep coming here to hurt me, that you're not the only tough guy."

Frank's eyes grew darker, like an oil spill taking over the once shining waters. Making it dirty, mixing in with poison, taking over any life that lived there. His fingers dug into Gerard's arm hard, nails threatening to rip past his thin tee shirt. 

His teeth were bared like a wild animal, words threatening to spill, and he let them. He was this far, this deep, so he let the water rise higher-- _"fucking do it then."_

Their faces were so close and neither had noticed until the words were said, noses bumped into each other, breaths were mixed together into a cloud of smoke. Then like a match being lit, their lips met in the mess of it all. Skin on skin, lips opening too fast, teeth meeting in a dangerous chime like glasses clanging together above heads in a cheers. Frank's head hit the solid fridge behind him too hard, his eyes sliding shut and fingers digging deeper into Gerard's arms all while the others hand pressed harder against his throat. 

Frank didn't want to submit to his hold, he didn't want to let himself be tamed by the hand around his throat. He hated to admit that his pulse felt heavy under the weight, that his skin burned under the touch there, legs feeling weak. He tugged at Gerard's hair again, harder this time, enough to disconnect their lips with a line of spit connecting the space. 

"What about _him_ , what would he think if he saw you like this?"

"I said shut your fucking mouth about him," Frank slung his hand down to Gerard's throat, too, taking equal power, "he doesn't matter."

"Why's that? You' a whore now, is that it?"

Frank squeezed his hand tighter, nearly smirking when he heard the older gasp. He took the split second of weaknesses to push the older back, hard enough to have him falling back against the counter across the way. That must have been the true breaking point for Gerard, who flung himself at Frank, hands gripping his biceps so hard that it stung, whirling him around so he was the one who slammed against the counter, shaking the cabinets with enough force to send the glass bottle flying. Thankfully, it crashed into the sink with a loud crack. 

Frank's heart was pounding, finally getting what it seemed he wanted, a real fight. Gerard had him crowded in the corner where the counter met the other, Frank's back pinned into the small space with the hard surface digging into his lower back. Gerard's hand met the open space of the youngers neck again, a place where he could feel at the upper hand, a place that was sensitive and fragile to hold in such a tight grip. He saw the fire in Frank's eyes, and Frank saw the blackness in Gerard's. Most people's eyes grew smaller when angry, yet Gerard's seemed to grow wider. 

Frank couldn't keep in the sound that left his lips as the hand pressed into his throat harder, an airy little gasp that showed weakness. It should have been the moment of realization, of clarity to stop, but he had no breaks. He was a car descending down a straight hill, speed increasing even while the tires screeched in protest, breaks shot and offering no help. _"I hate you,"_ Frank spat from lips that were still coated in a mix of their spit and alcohol. 

He repeated the words, each time growing harder to speak with the fingers that dug further into his skin. He gasped after each word, growing softer in tone as Gerard kept getting closer, kept staring at his lips as he spoke. Their lips were centimeters apart, if that, and he could feel the warm breath of the other mixing with his again. He felt even more intoxicated, eyes slipping shut, words falling into soft whines. 

"There," he hated that he loved the tone Gerard held, "there you go."

He wasn't going to submit to the older, he wasn't going to lose this fight but the way the alcohol swirled warmly through his veins, mixing with the thrill of being pushed around, the sated feeling a strong hand around his throat gave him-- he was finally coming to a halt. Maybe Gerard was the only one who could tame him, and this fact made his blood boil. 

It was fucked up, all of it, the way he almost chased after Gerard's lips then, breaths small, wanting puffs of clouded air. He closed his eyes, so he didn't have to see that evil look on the other, the look of power and pride in his victory. He let his eyes close, their lips meet, his mouth and body go slack as their tongues met. He let the other take over, let him win in a silent defeat.

He didn't have it in him to push back, to sneer another 'I hate you', not with the words that swam in his mouth alongside Gerard's hot tongue. He let his grip go where it was on Gerard's arms in a vice, let it slide down slowly, softly. He felt Gerard's grip loosen only slightly, as if he were preparing for the sudden change to be an act, lips parting. 

"He left a long time ago."

Heavy breaths, silence. "What?" 

"I _said_ ," Frank closed his eyes and leaned all of his weight against the counter, "he left. I haven't seen him in over a month." 

Gerard's fingers loosened to just a light touch, sliding to hold the back of the others neck, eyeing the red prints his fingers left along the skin, "where have you been staying? Where did he go?"

"He kicked me out, I've been going back and forth of staying on Ray's floor to Mikey's couch. But they don't want me around, either. Not when they barely have enough space as it is."

Gerard didn't know what to say, air entering and leaving him rapidly, trying to find words within the mess. He couldn't. 

"I'm too much, Gerard, I'm just too much." 

Their eyes didn't meet. Frank kept his head down, his gaze behind closed eyelids. He couldn't face him now, not after this. Not after hurting each other for no reason. After this absolute fucking mess they've turned into. 

"Frank," he tried but failed, "what the fuck?" They both silently wondered what the words meant. If he was asking about the new information, or if he was asking about what the hell just happened, what they just did. 

Frank turned his head at the words, trying to shrink away, the others hold still gentle at the nape of his neck. 

"What the _fuck?_ "

" _What?_ What more do you want me to say?" Frank snapped at the repetition of the words, feeling frantic and scared now that the words were out. 

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you didn't have a place anymore, that he left you, kicked you out?"

"What difference would it make? You still wouldn't want me here, I didn't want your pity, didn't want you to treat me differently."

"Frank, don't you see?" He scoffed, incredulous, "We _are_ treating each other differently."

And he felt like crying. What had he done? Losing his boyfriend who was never truly his, losing his friends by burdening them, losing Gerard. They used to be close, closer than anyone even if they bickered and fought playfully-- it was never like this.

"I messed up, I understand. I'm sorry, Gerard, I'm sorry for that, for all of this. I'm sorry that it's my fault this is what we've come to over the past couple of months."

The words felt like bile rising up his throat, exiting through sore, wet lips. 

"I came here to take it out on you," Frank kept on, his breathing still erratic, "it's not fair, you don't deserve it. I'm so unfair--"

He felt himself being pulled away from the corner, his back leaving the cold surface of the hard counter. He let the other pull him close into a hug, a grip so tight that it nearly hurt, but in a good way. Not the hurt they inflicted onto each other, but rather a rib crushing hold that was meant to piece them back together. Fuse the broken pieces back to one. 

"I want to forget," Frank's voice teetered heavily on the brink of tears, "I want you to make me forget. That's what I wanted every time I showed up here."

"How?" The word was barely a question, mumbled into the top of the boys soft hair. His mouth also held the question of forget what? What else is it that he didn't know? His arms were around Frank's waist, just above his hips and just below his ribs. He was so thin, he always had been, but Gerard faintly revelled in the way his arms easily wrapped around his form. 

"Hurt me," Frank whispered, lips hovering over the bare space at Gerard's neck where the collar of his shirt met, "just hurt me, Gerard."

Gerard wanted to take his shoulders and shake him, yell in his face until he heard him clearly, _'are you crazy?'_ But that would give him what he asked. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he shook his head, not letting go, "not even if you ask." 

"What if I deserve it? After all the shit I've caused, so much inconvenience for everyone around me, so much pain to you--" 

"I _said_ ," he cut him off, loud and clear, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already did, and I already hurt you, just do it again-- one more time, I want you to." Gerard couldn't believe what the other was begging for, he truly couldn't. Asking for him to lay his hands upon his skin, asking to be pushed and thrown around and gripped with unrelenting fingers. Maybe a minute ago Gerard would've listened, maybe pushed him around a bit more, but now?

"I want you to, Gee." He looked him in the eyes with a look he'd never seen before, one so vulnerable and small, so broken and begging. 

He didn't know what to say. He turned away from the younger with a firm grip on his slim wrist, pulling him along. He led him down the dark hallways, the silent ghosts that lived there hiding with the shadows as Frank was led along silently. He followed without fear of where the other was taking him.

They rounded a corner into a room, a room Frank knew to be Gerard's bedroom. He didn't find himself there often, it was usually off limits for him and anyone that found themselves in his apartment. Gerard always insisted it was his personal space, not to be interfered with by others. Frank admittedly tensed as he was pushed into the room, door closing behind them. Only then he braced himself, but was surprised by being pushed back onto the soft, plush bed. It was warm, even though it held no body heat, and was promising of good sleep. 

He watched as Gerard moved about the dark room, sifting through drawers until closing them softly. The atmosphere in those walls was different from the rest of the apartment, and Frank suddenly understood why he preserved it so much-- to keep it that way. His gaze traced the walls to make out what he could, finding minimalist decorations and neatly folded clothes on top of dressers. There wasn't much, but then there was Gerard; lifting his shirt above his head, replacing it with a thin white tee, discarding pants for his boxers, a simple shade of grey like Frank assumed-- not that he wondered of the others underwear color often. It was just a suiting color for the older, passive, hints of warmth beneath the slate surface. 

He turned to Frank, holding out a change of clothes for him, as well-- simple plain shirt, sweatpants if he wanted. Frank sat up, feeling far too sober for the first time all night-- the first time in awhile. He took it and slowly stood to discard his clothes, slipping on the shirt that smelled of Gerard. It grounded him. 

When he stood there in the once forbidden room, body feeling bare underneath the fabric of his boxers and the others soft shirt, eyes meeting Gerard who was climbing under the covers and laying himself down-- he realized the other wasn't going to hurt him. He stared awhile, swaying between feet before Gerard met his eyes, beckoning him closer. A silent, 'come here.'

That's how they found themselves together, laying in Gerard's bed in the dark, the covers pulled over their bodies. It was as if someone hit pause, took out the disk and put in a new one completely, pressing play on a new start. Frank didn't move once he hit the mattress again, only moved to roll onto his side to face Gerard, only to snuggle further into the sheets. He didn't move even when Gerard moved closer, when he reached arms out to hold him. It felt intimate and scary, scarier than it had felt to be pushed by him, hurt by his anger. It was such a contrast from only an hour ago, from down the hall in another room. 

It was silent, the sound of beating hearts and breaths that didn't quite sync up living under the covers. 

"What else don't I know?" Gerard whispered into the soft strands of hair atop Frank's head, chin resting on it.

Frank moved then, only slightly, to burrow closer into Gerard's arms, into the crook of his neck. Each passing second it seemed safer, seemed like he needed to get closer, to let himself do so. "He never loved me." 

It was vague, but it was a start. 

"He told me, he never did. He told me he only kept me around when it was convenient, and that it wasn't anymore. So he kicked me out and left."

Gerard was running his fingers through the boys hair gently, but at the words he found himself subconsciously curl his fingers around the strands, loosening quickly before it began to hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me--" Gerard started but was cut off. 

"That's just the half of it, Gerard. He wanted me when I was convenient. He _used_ me."

The room grew more silent, if that was even possible. As if their hearts quieted to make room for the words in the air, breaths shallowed.

"He wanted me when I would be good for him, when I'd give him what he wanted. But you know me, I'm stubborn, I put up a fight. I wouldn't always listen, which is when he kicked me out. Yet I had to go back every time, and give in again. It went on like that for a long time," Frank's voice was quiet but not weak, soft but holding a lifeless tone, "that's why I began to act like a fucking idiot, why I became reckless and would drink and treat you like shit. Because he was doing the same to me, I had nowhere to go. I couldn't tell you, because I needed him to have a home. Even when it was anything but that."

Gerard held him closer, and suddenly all the bruises that had ever embedded into his skin dissolved into nothing. All the anger boiling deep within cooled and evaporated as he held the boy close, felt him tremble with a heavy breath as he let it out, let it all out. "You have a home here, even if we broke it, we can rebuild it."

"I don't deserve it, I don't deserve this." Frank shook his head, his hand faintly gripping the front of Gerard's shirt in a silent way of saying ' _this_ , I mean _you_. I don't deserve _you_.'

"You didn't deserve that, to be treated that way by him. You can't lie to me and say that you did, you know you didn't," Gerard's voice was still soft, but assertive, "I'm not like him, I forgive, I understand."

Frank didn't argue that, because he knew it was true. He knew Gerard, and Gerard knew him. He knew the older, while despite having high levels of anger within him, was a steady person. He didn't let it get ahead of him, didn't let it take the reins and use it against Frank, didn't let it use the younger and throw him to the trash. While yes, he had pushed him, he didn't do it without regret in his chest. Burning despair in his heart at the memory of laying a hand on him. While the other man simply used the boy knowingly and didn't care about ripping him and his heart apart in the process. 

They were broken, a mess, but it was salvageable. 

"Stay with me," Gerard whispered against his forehead, "not out of pity, but as a new start. Not to forget our mistakes, but to learn from them."

Frank curled in closer. He heard the weight Gerard's words held, unlike weightless lies. Except for one, floating like a fallen leaf.

"I don't hate you, Gee."

Gerard lay in thought for a moment before humming. 

"I know." Frank wasn't drunk anymore, at least he thought-- maybe he was drunk on the moment, "I know, Frankie."

"Thank you." The two words were so simple, but within them stood, I'll stay, I'll rebuild us together, I'll help build us back up. He let his eyes slip shut, for once falling asleep in a bed and not on a floor, on a couch of someone who didn't want him there. He fell asleep in the arms of someone who cared, the last words flashing across his mind before sleep closed in around him, this is home, it always has been, and it will be again. 

Gerard heard the silent words, too. 

  
  



End file.
